


Starscream Drabbles

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Category: Transformers Prime
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Drabbles, Dubious Consent, M/M, PWP, Starscream getting harassed, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, poor steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9965426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: A series of short, silly phone drabbles written over a year ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Since they're so short I've lumped them together in one chapter. There haven't been any more since (maybe that's a good thing) but if anyone cares to throw prompts or ideas out, I might try them and keep adding to this.
> 
> Very silly, but enjoyable to write. Enjoy.
> 
> (And thank you to whoever created the Steve character lol)

1.

 _Clatter_.

Starscream’s optics darted to the datapad as it bounced stiffly across the floor before him, drawing his focus from his own. He glanced behind to the mech who had dropped it.

“How clumsy of me,” Megatron sneered, suspiciously unashamed of his supposed blunder. There was an air of _something_ lining his scarred faceplate that unsettled Starscream. It increased after the long pause between them, and Megatron lifted an expectant optic ridge.

 _Hmph!_ As if the oversized warlord couldn’t pick up his own datapad. _Lazy slagger_. Even if Starscream was a good deal closer to the ground than that mountain of metal, he was arrogantly asserting his power for something so trivial, and that really got under the Seeker’s plating.

Starscream grudgingly reached for the fallen object, bending down and wondering how it had managed to skid directly in front of him.

He realized a split second later, as he exposed his rear, that it had been no accident. Too late. Something brushed his aft very deliberately, very inappropriately, provoking an indignant squeak.

“!”

This was _blatant_ harassment!

 

2.

“M – Megatron…”

The sound of metals sliding against one another echoed daintily throughout the corridor. 

Soundwave paused, halting his trajectory. He lifted his helm a fraction and listened, suspecting he had certainly not misheard. A second passed.

“Nnnh – ah! Ah… ahh…”

Metal on metal resonated quietly, deliberately muffled to conceal the activity. But Soundwave had impeccable sensors.

“Aaahh – !”

“Quiet,” rumbled the voice of the warlord, barely a whisper.

Something scraped repetitively against the wall, something thin with a large surface area. Two somethings. A bitten off moan haunted the edges of Soundwave’s audio receptors.

“Mnh – s-someone might – gah!” Starscream’s concerns were cut off in unison with a sudden, sharp scrape.

“Hush,” Megatron ordered gently, a tone Soundwave had not heard in a long, long time.

Had the corner been any further away, and had Soundwave’s enhanced audials been any less, he might have missed the sounds of desperate keens muffled through denta. The spy decided it was definitely time to leave.

He carefully stepped back the way he had come, masking his pede falls, and had almost made it to the boundaries of safe noise distance when the abrupt, strangled cry rang down the corridor, chasing him from the scene of the crime.

Soundwave quickened his pace until he finally stepped from the threshold of the next corridor. He wished he could say that was that, but even he, impassive Soundwave, couldn’t deny being unaffected by those noises.

And he could certainly understand Lord Megatron’s disregard for public fraternization if those where his reward.

After a second’s hesitation, Soundwave headed back to his console. His nice, busy, distracting console…

 

3.

No one informed Steve the bridge had been temporarily cleared and off limits. No one assumed he had any business there so his fellow drones said nothing as they passed him outside the mess hall. He _didn’t_ have any business there, truthfully, but the main officers couldn’t distinguish one drone from the next ,and so he could easily be a part of the bridge crew as far as they were concerned. It worked often. And it was worth it to watch Commander Starscream strutting his role around the walkway; perhaps Steve would get lucky again and the SIC would ask (demand) for his assistance again.

He knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up, it was pathetic, this crush, but try as he might he could not stop.

So when he approached the bridge doors and stepped smoothly through their admittance, his hopes – as well as his momentum – came to a sudden, almost comical halt.

There, before him, rutting some poor mech into the console with his considerable mass, was Megatron. It took a split second for Steve to recognize those slim legs wrapped around his waist and a pair of twitching wings poking out from behind Megatron’s bulk. And then came the gasps, the moans that Steve would hear every recharge from henceforth.

His spark froze.

Drawn by the sound of the door, Megatron twisted to glare at the intruder, unwittingly giving Steve the best view of Starscream he would ever see: Legs spread, optics glazed and thoroughly ravished.

“Get out!” Megatron growled thickly, dangerously.

Steve turned tail and fled. But not before searing the image of the Seeker into his processor.

Outside, several corridors away, Steve came to a stop. A barrage of feelings hit him: Shock, anger (how dare Megatron frag HIS Commander), and most prominent of all, arousal.

In the silence of the corridor, Steve’s fans were loud. He turned and made a beeline for his berthroom. He had a surging charge to take care of.

His bleeding spark would have to wait.

 

4.

“Steeeevveee…”

The drone nudged his helm against the other in response. He changed his angle and was rewarded with another breathy moan. The sound was intoxicating, better than the highest of high grades. It traveled through Steve’s circuits like fire, burning its way right down to his pedes. He shifted his weight and thrust deeper.

Beneath him, Starscream gasped. Wings flared beautifully against the berth, helm thrown back. His thighs tightened around Steve, heels hooked together behind. Steve would treasure this sight, the sight of his Commander writhing beneath him, whimpering because of _his_ ministrations, moaning for _his_ spike.

Not Megatron’s.

Steve was tender, he always was. He worshipped Starscream’s frame, bestowed it with the loving affection it deserved, it needed. Steve was the savior, the mech to turn to for comfort and passion. Starscream knew who treated him right. He didn’t have to keep his walls up in front of Steve. He could let go.

And let go he did. Starscream was helpless to restrain the cry that burst from his vocalizer as Steve purposely brushed against his deepest sensor nodes, grinding relentlessly to send them to their peaks. He pressed his palm firmly against Starscream’s right wing, applying tactile pressure along a line of sensitive metal. It earned him a delicious groan and a processor-blowing tightness around his length. He adored Starscream’s wings, especially for the reactions they produced.

“St-Steve,” the Seeker croaked, hips rocking rhythmically in time with the drone’s thrusts. His long talons pricked into his partner’s shoulder plating, scoring ten neat, shallow marks into his frame. Steve would wear them with pride. With love.

Before he knew it, Steve was driving them both over the edge. Their charges crackled so intensely he wondered how he had missed the build up. All too suddenly their overloads gripped them. Steve caught himself just enough to watch the rapture roll across Starscream’s face as he locked his hips in place and rode out his Seeker’s climax.

Or, he would have done.

Steve jerked out of recharge sharply, a stray intake cutting the silence. One of his fellow drones, his bunkmate, had walked in; the sound of the door had awoken him. He was just lucid enough to find the irony in that, considering the same sound had disrupted Megatron’s ‘conquest’.

“Ugh, Steve! Were you dreaming of Commander Starscream again?” His friend asked, pointedly directing his face mask to Steve’s obvious give-away.

Steve covered up, disappointed beyond measure it had been just that.

A dream.

 

5.

Knockout looked up as the medical bay doors opened. At last, something to break the spell of boredom.

Starscream entered, a slight but noticeable limp to his walk. He huffed in discomfort.

“Commander,” Knockout greeted silkily, glad for some familiar company as he lent against a berth. “What can I do for you?”

“I was… ordered to seek pain relief,” Starscream grit out, avoiding optic contact.

“Oh?” Knockout queried, raising an eyebrow. The only superior to Starscream was Megatron, and concern wasn’t usually his forte. Intriguing.

“Just –” Starscream began with his usual snap as he stalled for words, unwilling to offer an explanation. “Give me something to dull my pain receptors.”

A smarmy grin spread across Knockout’s faceplate as he folded his arms. “Now, now, Commander, you know I can’t issue any medication without a clear understanding of the ailment.”

Starscream ground his denta. Oh how Knockout loved to rile him up.

However, before either of them could say or glare further, the medical bay doors opened again. Megatron strolled in.

“My Liege,” Knockout greeted before noticing Starscream’s sudden change in posture.

Megatron’s optics were on the Seeker as he spoke to the medic. “Knockout, out.”

There was a brief, mutual pause for his ungraceful choice of words. Then Starscream backed away.

“Not again?!” Starscream questioned more than stated. “I haven’t even had chance to get pain meds – that _you_ ordered!”

“Tough,” Megatron smirked deviously, stepping closer to the Seeker. “I grow impatient. You may rest after.”

He lunged, tackling Starscream and ignoring the squawks of the furious mech.

Knockout promptly obeyed his orders and got the scrap out of there. Once outside behind closed doors, he grinned.

Well, this was fuel for some juicy gossip.

 

6.  
(There’s this ongoing joke I have with Glitch2, where Megatron is constantly fragging Starscream, so much that everyday he says ‘get in my quarters’ at least once. Anything Starscream does turns on Megatron, so even just walking onto the bridge, Megatron’s there, demanding ‘get in my quarters’ so he can frag the life out of him. We pop this joke into our random conversations, and I thought I’d share it since I added his phrase into this ficlet. It escalated so much that, Starscream could very well just be LEAVING Megatron’s quarters, and then suddenly he gets a comm: ‘Get in my quarters!’ and Starscream’s just resigned to this, sighs, and turns back into Megatron’s room. I could go on about this silly idea, but I won't, lol).

“Leave me the scrap alone!”

“How DARE you take that insolent tone with me.”

“I am not your personal frag toy!”

“You are what I say you are! Now get in my quarters!”

Knockout exchanged a rather amused look with his partner from their station in medbay. Most of the Nemesis was enjoying the drama, having little else to entertain it. Part of the crew fell in sympathies with their Commander, while others cheered on their Lord’s demanding trysts.

It had progressed to betting pools taking place between drones and certain officers, based on whether or not particular events would alter the course of their onboard entertainment, whether or not Starscream would ever get his reprieve. The odds of Megatron losing interest were among the lowest bets placed. Well, lowest being non-existent. There had been very little Autobot activity as of late and the mechs had been growing restless. Megatron had seized this opportunity to harass his Second in Command. Constantly.

“I’m going to win that pool.” Breakdown sounded sure.

Knockout raised a brow. “Oh?”

“There’s no way that slim frame can withstand Lord Megatron’s constant pounding,” the big guy said. “Starscream’s gonna have to put a stop to it or break in half.”

A knowing smile shifted across Knockout’s flawless faceplate. “Oh contraire, dear Breakdown –”

Breakdown frowned.

“A Human phrase,” Knockout dismissed with a wave of his servo. “What I mean is that you’re wrong.” He paused, waiting for his partner to ask –

“What do you mean?”

Knockout smiled a little more. “You underestimate Starscream entirely. It’s easy to so, he does look like a lightweight. But it’s times like this in which it is advantageous to be a medic. Privy to certain… information. Such as knowledge that Seekers are actually extremely durable, and consequently possess outstanding stamina.”

Breakdown tilted his head, considering. “Well, maybe so, but –”

“Aaaaand, as a matter of biology, Seekers need a substantial outlet for charge build-up more than the average horny mech.”

“Yeah, but still –”

“And of course we all know what a mouth Starscream has, “ Knockout continued. “He says many things and means a multitude of others. One might even say he can’t help but complain, even if he enjoys it.”

Breakdown closed his mouth. “Hmm.”

“So I believe _I_ will be winning that pool,” the medic stated. “For although we have been subjected to what we assume are verbal complaints, the truth is out dear Commander is getting what he needs _and_ what he wants. He won’t reject that until it suits _him_.”

Breakdown stared for a few seconds. “Damn.”

Knockout grinned smugly.

 

7.

(This seems a bit random compared to the previous ones. It was written after the others, but perhaps it would sit in before no. 5.)

There wasn’t much that could stun Knockout these days. He had seen plenty of shocking or disturbing occurrences since his time in the Decepticon ranks. Indeed, as well as some hilarious scenes. He had learnt to expect the unexpected.

But he was not expecting to see _that_.

The door to his medbay had barely completed its open cycle before Knockout was over the threshold – and froze.

Megatron’s gaze turned to glare at him. Well, it was understandable. He _was_ currently fragging his Second in Command into one of the medical berths. Starscream was certainly giving credit to his mouthy reputation. A little _too_ well. Knockout felt a distinct heat warm his circuits.

The sounds subsided into breathy whimpers as Megatron ceased his thrusts. Knockout had temporarily forgotten he was subject to a very intense gaze. Something unreadable. 

“Either get in,” Megatron began in a deep voice heavy with arousal. “Or get out.”

Knockout gawked, rooted to the spot as his mind whirled around that invitation. Until his processor jarred him out of his paralysis and some unwanted, automatic reaction chose for him. His leg took a rather wide step back and the door closed before him, cutting off the medbay from the corridor. He stared at it for a long time.

“Why didn’t you go forward?!” He berated himself, servos clawed in a futile gesture, grasping at a lost opportunity. He could almost see the action happening on the other side of the door. Without him. He dropped his servos and pouted. “Scrap…”


End file.
